


Pass the Cranberry

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Series: Wrapped it Myself (even has a little bow on it) [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (i guess), Bottom Harry, Christmas, Harry in Lingerie, M/M, Top Louis, and of course cranberry lube because tis the season, harry wants a baby, newlyweds, sex in a childhood bed, sex with the risk of being caught, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis uses the promise of kissable baby feet to convince Harry to spend their first Christmas as newlyweds at his mum's house, which rather puts a wrench in Harry's plans to put on Christmas lingerie and celebrate the holidays as honeymooners ought. </p><p>(Or, the one in which Harry and Louis fuck very, very quietly in his childhood bed on Christmas night so as not to wake the countless sleeping Tomlinsons just beyond those four thin walls.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pass the Cranberry

**Author's Note:**

> For breath-for-fluff and bgayb on tumblr, for BOTH of their contributions to my Christmas bow fanart challenge!

“So babe, I was thinking, maybe we could spend Christmas at my mum’s house?”

There are plenty of young husbands who would groan at these words, picturing meddling in-laws and snide comments and a noisy, stressful holiday where they didn’t quite feel at home. Not Harry, though –Louis was sure of that before he even suggested it. Harry loves his mum, and his entire family, just as much as or possibly more than Louis does. Of _course_ Harry will want to spend Christmas in Doncaster.

“I don’t want to spend Christmas in Doncaster,” Harry pouts, looking up from where he’s cutting snowflakes from printer paper to hang in the windows for decoration. “I thought we were going to spend it just the two of us? It’s our first Christmas as a family.”

Louis sets his mug of tea down on the kitchen counter and walks to the table where Harry’s hard at work, carefully pushing his masterpieces aside so that he can perch in Harry’s lap. “Well it’s not really _that_ special, is it? We’ve been a family since the band started, the fact that we got marriage papers to prove it last month doesn’t change that.”

“We’re newlyweds, Lou, that changes things. Christmas is all about family. Don’t you want to celebrate it with just _our_ family?”

He seems insistent, and Louis frowns a little to himself. He hadn’t expected to meet much -if any- resistance from Harry on the idea of doing Christmas away. He wouldn’t push this hard normally, but unfortunately he’s already told his mother that they’re coming, so – “But think of the babies, Harry!”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “Stop that, you’re the devil. That’s not fair.”

“If we go to Doncaster for the holidays,” Louis continues, unperturbed, “you get to see all the little ones. And you can hold Ernie and Dori, and you can tickle their little tummies and kiss their little baby feet!”

“I can tell you’re manipulating me, you know.”

 _And it’s working beautifully. Dance, puppet!_ “And maybe next year we’ll have a baby of our own, and we can spend Christmas just the three of us, just our little family.”

Louis can feel Harry’s breath catch in his chest and those green eyes are watery as they look up at him. “Don’t tease me, Lou.”

“Would never tease you about something like that, love,” Louis is quick to reply, and he couldn’t be more honest. “The agency said our paperwork is super close to being approved, yeah? I bet by this time next year we’ll have a chubby little baby to bundle up in a miniature coat and put little Christmas tree sockies on his little feetsies.”

Harry wraps his arms around Louis and buries his face in the older man’s jumper with a soft groan. “You had me at baby feet and you know it.”

…………………

They decide not to spend too long in Doncaster –ten people is a lot for one house, and besides, Harry and Louis have plans with the rest of the band on the 27th. They’ll go in the morning on the 24th and leave on the 26th, which gives just enough time for Louis to be covered in kisses from his mother and any Tomlinson under the age of ten to be covered in kisses from Harry. There hasn’t been a word of complaint out of Harry since that initial conversation, though he still seems to be holding back some tiny bit of enthusiasm.

That doesn’t prevent them from having a lovely Christmas. It really is better with kids around to tear open wrapping paper with giggles and eyes that shine so bright they might as well be Christmas bulbs. To this day, Louis’ favorite thing about having been put into a band all those years ago –other than finding the love of his life –was gaining the ability to spoil his family to death. If he can’t wipe the grin off of his face watching the pleased flushes on theirs, well, he’s been accused of greater sins.

Harry’s taken it upon himself to be the official family photographer, taking out the fancy camera Louis got him as a present and snapping away as everyone opens presents and feasts on homemade food and collapses on every soft surface for naps in the afternoon. That’s when he _isn’t_ having deep conversations with the older twins about their favorite cartoons or finding new shiny objects to dangle from the toy bars of the younger twins.

At the end of the day everyone is filled with that happy, warm glow that only Christmas can provide. The kids are all ushered off to bed, the adults have all enjoyed a nice, soothing cup of tea, and even Johanna’s eyes are starting to droop despite the way they’ve been wide with the excitement of a full house all day. “Well,” she says with a yawn, “I think Dan and I are going to finish cleaning up the kitchen to get it ready for tomorrow and then we’re heading to bed. You two are staying for breakfast, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, we were thinking about leaving early afternoon if that’s alright,” Louis replies. “We wanna get home at a decent time but there’s no sense wasting a day, right?”

“That’s absolutely right! We’ll see you in the morning, boys.” Johanna rises and kisses them both on the cheek before leading Dan out of the living room and back towards the kitchen, giving sleepy waves as they go.

Harry and Louis head upstairs towards bed as well, less tired than their parents but still pleasantly relaxed with Christmas cheer. “I think I’m going to take a shower before bed,” Louis murmurs as they walk down the hall, conscious of the many sleeping ears behind these doors. “I still have tinsel in my hair from where I fell asleep around my sisters and my traitorous husband didn’t defend me.”

“But Lou, it looks so good on you! The glitter really brings out your eyes,” Harry says wickedly, but gives Louis a sweet kiss. “Okay, you do that. I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

They split off there, Harry into Louis’ bedroom where they’re staying and Louis into the bathroom to attempt to wash the holiday cheer from his fringe. The shower winds up taking a while because tinsel is surprisingly hard to remove from hair, and the house is all quiet by the time Louis wraps a towel around his waist, peeps into the hallway to make sure the coast is clear, and tiptoes down the hall to his bedroom.

It’s dark in there, heavy curtains blocking out even the light from the streetlamps beyond the window. “H, you still awake?” Louis whispers, shutting the door gently behind him just in case.

“Yup, I’m still up,” Harry answers quietly.

“You mind if I flick the lights on for a sec? Can’t see where I’m bloody going.”

“Be my guest.”

Louis gropes at the wall by the door for a moment until his fingers come across the light switch, and when the lights flip on and the spots are gone from Louis’ eyes he sees Harry spread out on the duvet in what is most certainly _not_ pajamas. All he’s got on is a giant red ribbon, wrapped around his torso until he’s trussed up like a present with a big red bow in the middle. His tattoos are all on display as what can be seen of his skin (most of it –that bow leaves nearly nothing to the imagination) shivers a little from the chill of the room.

“Finish gawking so I can take this off and put on a sweater instead,” Harry giggles softly, grinning at the startled look on Louis’ face. “And merry Christmas, you twat.”

“Why the hell do you want to take that off?” Louis asks reverently, sauntering towards the bed with no small amount of interest. “God, you look pretty.”

“Well this was _supposed_ to be part of my Christmas present to you, but _someone_ insisted we spend Christmas at his mum’s house instead of our giant, empty one. Obviously we’ll have to rain check on what I was hoping would come after this, but I figured I might as well have it on for a minute on Christmas just to give you something to look forward to.” Harry sits up and kisses Louis fondly. “Now seriously, could you grab me a jumper and some boxers? I’m freezing.”

“No, no, baby, don’t take it off,” Louis begs, still not done ‘gawking,’ as Harry had so accurately called it. He plants one hand in the center of Harry’s chest, right over the bow, and presses Harry gently back onto his pillow before climbing in on top of him, towel forgotten on the floor. “We’ll cuddle up under the blankets and then we’ll be warm, yeah? No need to cover up or anything crazy like that.”

Harry muffles a laugh behind one hand but lets Louis stay on hands and knees over him, duvet draped over them both as their mouths meet in low, warming kisses. Eventually Louis shifts so that while most of his weight is still off of Harry, their torsos can still press together. Louis’ skin is still a little damp from the shower and Harry’s still got goosebumps wherever the meager fabric doesn’t cover him, but the longer they lay there kissing the more their bodies warm until there’s a pocket of heat beneath the covers with them that relaxes them further into this lazy snog.

Except it doesn’t stay lazy for long, because there’s slippery silk caught between their torsos and their bodies are warm and Harry’s hands have found their way to Louis’ hair and to his bum. Louis’ half-hard cock presses down against where Harry’s own semi is covered by the ribbon, and Harry can’t help but let out a soft, pleased mewl. “Hey Lou, you think if I kept really, really quiet you could fuck me?”

It’s random enough to maybe have startled a laugh out of Louis if he hadn’t been thinking along much the same lines. “The question isn’t if you stay quiet can I fuck you, it’s if I fuck you can you stay quiet?”

The words sound like hope and Harry wiggles his hips up with more purpose, seeking the friction to get them both fully hard. “Absolutely I can. Used to do it all the time in the X Factor house. Quiet as a mouse, won’t make a peep.”

“That doesn’t count, we were just doing hand jobs and blow jobs back then,” counters Louis. “I’ve known you for a lot of years, Harry, and you have _never_ been able to keep your mouth shut when I hit your prostate.”

“Well can’t you –but if we –but Louuuuu,” Harry whines, moving his hand from Louis’ hair down between them to start teasing at Louis’ cock. “You started this, you jerk. I was going to put on clothes and go to bed, but you just _had_ to come have a steamy snog with me.”

He’s probably right, and Louis would probably know it if he weren’t so damn distracted by Harry’s hand. If he rocks his hips Harry will obligingly hold his wrist still and let Louis fuck into it, warm and just a little wet with the water from Louis’ hair. It feels almost as nice as fucking into Harry for real, where he would be hot and lube-slick and so, so tight-

“Your thighs,” Louis says suddenly, sitting back on his heels to run his hands down the pale, muscled beauties. “Fuck. Can I fuck your thighs? Maybe you could stay quiet that way. Wouldn’t have to scream like you do when I’m inside of you.”

Normally Harry would blush at the mention of his tendency to come very loudly and with a shout of Louis’ name and at least one expletive, but he appears to have stopped listening after ‘fuck your thighs.’ Already he’s grinning and rearranging his legs so that they’re both draped over one of Louis’ shoulders, pressed together invitingly. “Are you just suggesting this so you don’t have to spend time prepping me?”

“That helps. Plus,” Louis adds as he leans off the bed and rummages through a suitcase on the floor, “I don’t have to take that pretty bow off of you.”

Louis takes the bottle of lube he’s retrieved and squirts some into the palm of his hand, working his cock with slow, tight strokes that slick him up quickly, though he doesn’t stop there. He takes a minute to just tug himself off to the sight of his new husband dolled up so pretty, lying there waiting to be fucked with excitement in his face and mischief in his eyes. He’s gorgeous, this man that he’s married, and Louis sort of just wants to wreck him.

Finally Harry starts to wiggle with impatience, palming his cock through the ribbon, and Louis obliges by wrapping one arm around Harry’s legs where they’re over his shoulder, keeping them pressed tightly together. With the other hand he takes his cock and rubs it up and down the slit formed by the backs of Harry’s thighs, watching the lube make a mess of the skin, before choosing a spot right at the meatiest part of his legs and pushing between them.

It feels good on Louis’ cock, all soft and tight and smooth. Harry hisses and wiggles a little, stilling himself at once to let Louis keep going. His hand finds his own cock at once, though, stroking it firmly beneath the ribbon in time to the thrusts. It’s a different sensation than being properly fucked, less intense physically but just illicit enough to make his head spin with want.

“Babe, shh,” Louis reprimands in a whisper when Harry’s panting starts to turn into deeper heaves for air. “’m hardly even fucking you and you’re still so loud.”

Harry opens his eyes a slit to make sure Louis’ scolding comes with a smile (it does) and licks his lips a little to wet them where his heavy pants have dried them out. “Need more, Lou, can’t- need something more. Please?”

Of course Louis immediately obliges, leaning forward to press Harry’s legs more towards his torso and changing the angle of his thrusts into Harry. Now he’s fucking lower, fucking so that every time his cock slips through Harry’s thighs it’s thrusting across Harry’s balls, across the base of his cock, slickening the fabric that covers him with lube and the precum that’s starting to leak from Louis’ cock. “Is that better?” he croons to Harry just above a whisper, even though the sudden bite of Harry’s lip is plenty answer. “That enough?”

Harry can’t move his hand much with his legs pressed against his chest this way, but he can hold his cock tight and get lost in the feel of Louis thrusting through his thighs and across his balls. It’s so _tantalizing,_ all this good stimulation but not how he’s used to, and Harry has to concentrate hard on keeping his thighs pressed together instead of spreading them wide to give Louis access to whatever he wants. The thought makes Harry’s stomach flutter and it never quite stops, heat pooling quickly as he tries his best to work his own cock, swiping his hand over the tip and feeling his thighs tremble.

He has enough common sense in his slightly addled mind to turn and press his face into a pillow before he comes, the little moan he can’t hold back swallowed up by the soft material when he bites down. There’s a jerk in his lower stomach and warm slick running down his wrist, dripping onto his tummy as he gives his cock a few last tugs.

He’s about to tell Louis he has to stop, that he’s too sensitive like this, but Louis’ way ahead of him. “You good, babe?” Louis murmurs sweetly as he lets Harry’s thighs fall apart at last and crawls up between them to give him a tender kiss.

“You could keep going if you wanted to,” Harry says breathlessly, patting one thigh weakly. “As long as you don’t fuck over my cock I’ll be okay.”

“Actually, could- do you think you could blow me?” Louis grins down at him, the flush of sex starting to be overtaken by a deeper flush of embarrassment. “It’s probably a bit sick, but –I kind of really want the sight of your head bobbing between my thighs surrounded by all the stupid stuff I had in my room when I was a teenager who would have lost his mind over you.”

“You have lost your mind over me,” Harry mumbles back, but when he pulls Louis down for a kiss it’s deep and filthy. “You’re obscene, I hope you know that. Did you use that gross lube?”

“Of course not!” Louis’ mock offense gets lost somewhat in his excitement as Harry nudges him to flip over on his back. “It’s the cranberry flavor. I’m both considerate _and_ festive.”

Harry doesn’t put up any further argument, wiggling down between Louis’ legs and sinking his mouth on Louis’ length at once. He seems to enjoy Louis’ choice of lube, since as he starts to bob there’s rather more slurping going on than is strictly necessary. Louis has to tap his cheek in reprimand and hush him gently for fear that the whole house would be woken by the positively sinful noises.

He isn’t paying attention to their volume for long, however, because when the distracting flavor is all but gone from Louis’ cock Harry starts to work in earnest, sweat-damp curls falling into his face as he drags his mouth up and down Louis’ length. He’s got one big hand massaging the base, holding it steady as he sinks down farther, slow but sure as he nudges the tip of Louis’ cock into the back of his throat.

That’s the moment Louis feels orgasm about to approach, when he feels those muscles fluttering around his tip as Harry tries so hard to swallow him down. He’s so fucking enthusiastic, is the thing, and he’s sitting here covered in his own cum and coated in cranberry lube and wrapped in a bow bobbing on Louis’ cock when all around them Louis can see the remnants of an eighteen year-old self who would have wanked every night to the sight of a boy so pretty on television if it weren’t for the fact that he was right there with him and hopelessly in love.

Louis’ common sense, which has always been much less than Harry’s, encourages him to pull on Harry’s curls in warning but does absolutely nothing to stifle his orgasm. His hips jerk and Louis comes right down Harry’s throat, blurting out a loud, “Fuck!” and smacking the mattress beside him in blissful satisfaction.

Harry swallows and pulls off at once, eyes bright and hand flying up to cover his mouth at the same moment Louis’ does, both staring at each other as they realize what Louis’ done. There’s a long, breathless moment where they both pant silently and stare at the door, waiting for some sort of accusation, or perhaps an invasion of small children with innocent minds –

All they hear is a soft, “Everything okay in there?”

Louis’ face has never been redder. “Yeah, mum, everything’s fine,” he says quietly, just loud enough to be heard through the door. “Just –tripped on my suitcase, stubbed my toe. Didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I was getting a glass of water. Be careful, love,” Johanna answers, yawning disinterestedly before her footsteps shuffle in a quiet retreat.

By this point Harry is shaking with silent laughter, eyes tearing up with it and hands still pressed dramatically to his mouth. “Shut up, you,” Louis grumbles without menace, still blushing furiously as he grabs a pack of baby wipes from the suitcase and tosses it on the bed so they can both clean the mess from their skin. “Would you quit being so smug?”

“Smug? Me? I’m not smug. I just think you’ve spent a lot of breath tonight telling me how loud I am for a guy whose mum just heard him orgasm.”

He absolutely _is_ smug, but Louis can’t think of a single defense except to round up all the used wipes and toss them in the bin before grabbing boxers and jumpers for the both of them. Harry’s extracting himself from the bow and looking at it rather mournfully, so Louis takes it and folds it carefully (somewhat, by his standards) before putting it back in the suitcase. “Think cranberry lube washes out of silk?” he asks cheerily

“Not sure anyone’s ever gotten cranberry lube on silk before, but I guess we’ll see.” Harry yawns. “Hope it does, though. That thing deserves a round two. I was kind of hoping you would tie me up with it.”

Louis doesn’t answer lest his dick get any grand ideas, just flips off the light switch and crawls back into bed until he feels Harry’s warmth and can curl around him like a big spoon. “Whatever you want, love,” he mumbles into Harry’s shoulder. “As many rounds as you want for a merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh there it is, the last of my bow lingerie smut. I'd like to thank all of the lovely artists and editors and stick-figure aficionados who answered my call for visuals of Harry in a bow. You made my holiday season bright and in return, I hope I added a little holiday cheer to the fandom with my shameless Christmas porn.
> 
> Happy holidays, everybody!!
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr
> 
> (PS, when you're looking at the two pieces of fanart in the fic, the left is bgayb and the right is breath-for-fluff!


End file.
